


Barbecue Bets

by RedLipped



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, gavin's typical bets, slight vomit warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLipped/pseuds/RedLipped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin frequently spent his hard-earned money betting Michael to eat or drink something gross. On this particular day, it was barbecue sauce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barbecue Bets

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of two things:  
> -[this](http://jacktapillo.tumblr.com/post/113506842922/thebrassyopeningtoirresistible-a-list-of-aus-for) otp prompt post on tumblr: "we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you"  
> -the video where gavin bets michael $100 to drink bbq sauce. this is literally canon. kind of.

Gavin Free was a man who enjoyed making bets. He had a bit of extra money to toss around and he rarely ever spent any of it. For some sick and twisted reason, he also liked making others do uncomfortable things, so he resorted to bets.

The bets always varied in extremes. Some were potentially life-threatening, but most were generally harmless. Geoff had threatened to kick his ass multiple times for the dangerous ones, specifically the time when the older Gent had found the three Lads trying to climb on top of the Rooster Teeth building. Gavin had decided to stop the more extreme bets after that day.

Instead, he resorted to shoving things in Michael's mouth. Sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively.

Gavin admired Michael's confidence and ability to eat whatever was placed in front of him, no matter how disgusting it may be. So, because he's a prick, Gavin frequently spent his hard-earned money betting Michael to eat or drink something gross. On this particular day, it was barbecue sauce.

Gavin had entered the break room earlier that day and spotted the unlabelled bottle on the counter. Despite the fact that he had a weak stomach and typically gagged over unknown foods, he unscrewed the lid and sniffed. The barbecue sauce was strong and he identified it immediately, pulling it away from his nose and cringing.

Michael walked into the break room behind him, heading directly for the refrigerator. He opened the door, pulled out a cold Redbull, and slammed it shut again. He cracked the seal and took a sip while turning around to face Gavin.

A grin spread on his face. “What's on your nose?”

Gavin cocked his head curiously, waiting for the punchline that he typically received whenever someone mentioned his slightly larger-than-average nose.

Michael rolled his eyes at his confused silence and took a few steps toward him until he was inches from the Brit's face.

He rubbed his finger along the tip of Gavin's nose and immediately stuck the finger in his mouth. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Barbecue sauce? Gav, it's like 9 AM.”

Gavin rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

“I just saw the bottle on the counter and wanted to know what it was!”

“Typical.” Michael rolled his eyes again. Gavin stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.

A small grin replaced the sour expression on Michael's face. He leaned forward and pecked his boyfriend gently on the lips. Gavin's pouting expression shifted into a wide, cheeky smile.

“Michael, love, I have a brilliant idea!” he burst out, “I bet you can't chug this entire bottle of barbecue sauce in four minutes!”

Michael pulled a face. “Seriously? Why would I do that?”

“I'll give you a hundred dollars if you can do it!”

He received a groan in response, but after a moment of consideration, Michael nodded.

“Fine. Fuck it, I'll be one hundred dollars richer.”

Gavin emitted one of his typical squeaks and immediately pulled out his phone to record the bet. Michael picked up the bottle of barbecue sauce and weighed it in his hands.

As if on cue, Ray and Jack entered the break room.

“What are you two doing?” Jack asked.

Gavin beamed. “Michael is going to chug this bottle of barbecue sauce, and if he can do it within four minutes, I'll owe him a hundred dollars.”

Jack sighed at the unsurprising antics. The Lads' shenanigans were always similar bets like these.

Ray, suddenly intrigued, sat at the end of the table. Michael and Gavin sat across from him and Gavin started the recording on his phone.

As a short intro for the audience, Gavin recapped the main outline of the bet. He panned the camera around the break room to show the faces of various other employees who were watching in curiosity.

“Okay! Rules are, no throwing up,” he paused, quickly adding, “until you've finished.”

He moved in with his phone to get an up-close view of the bottle.

“That is pretty full,” he mumbled.

He settled back into his seat while Michael prepared himself. Jack stood at the edge of the table between them and opened the timer on his phone.

“We've got four minutes on the clock, are you ready?”

“Okay.”

“Take your mark, get set, go.”

A dead silence fell over the room as Michael began to drink from the bottle. Their co-workers looked on, eager to see the results of the bet.

Only a mere 6 seconds had passed when Michael took the bottle away from his lips.

“You are so fucked.”

The Rooster Teeth employees burst into laughter at Michael's confident claim while Michael brought the bottle back up to his lips again, continuing to chug. Looking at the bottle, Gavin noticed that Michael had practically drained one-third of the sauce within such a short time frame.

He laughed with the rest of the crew, accepting his defeat with a grin.

He moved in closer with his phone, getting a different angle of Michael's face.

“How does he do these things?” he asked no one in particular.

His friends and co-workers behind them started discussing the spices in the sauce while Gavin's eyes remained trained on Michael's face. He noted as Michael began to tear up and turn a little bit red in the cheeks.

In under 40 seconds, Michael pulled the now-empty bottle from his lips and tipped it upside down to show it was empty. He wiped the excess barbecue sauce from his upper lip and stared at Gavin expectantly.

“How do you feel, Michael?” Gavin asked, chuckling mid-sentence.

“It actually wasn't that bad at all,” Michael responded, “It was not _nearly_ as bad as I thought. That was nothing to me.”

“I could not do that.” Gavin shuddered. Michael gave a thumbs-up to the camera.

“Thanks for the hundred dollars, Gav. Don't give me money in dicks.”

“I'm gonna draw dicks all over those dollars.”

  
  


About an hour later, the Rooster Teeth employees had long returned to their normal work. The Lads and Jack were back in the Achievement Hunter office, everyone was working on their own projects, and the bet between Michael and Gavin was almost forgotten by the rest of the crew entirely.

Michael, however, couldn't forget the bet. His stomach rolled with wave after wave of nausea. Growls and gurgles came from his belly, breaking the silence in the room.

Gavin leaned his head over toward Michael and stared at him curiously. “Is there a tiny dragon in your digestive system?”

Michael glared at him for a moment, but he switched to a grimace as another wave of nausea hit him.

“I don't think that barbecue sauce is doing me any favours,” he replied, groaning at the end of his sentence.

Typically, Gavin took most things as a joke. He was rarely ever serious about feelings in his life, especially pertaining those around him. There were a few exceptions, and fortunately Michael was one of them. At times like these, Michael was grateful for the fact that Gavin knew how to be serious when necessary.

While Michael dealt with his rolling stomach, Gavin saved his work and shut down both of their computers, leapt out of his chair and announced to the rest of the room, mainly to Geoff, that the two of them would be going home. Geoff had already been informed about the earlier bet and he had assumed something like this would happen, so he wasn't surprised.

“Take care of him, okay, lad?” Geoff's concerned fatherly instincts kicked in.

“Will do, Dad!”

Gavin took Michael gently by the hand and the two of them walked to Michael's car.

“You're not fucking driving, Gavin.”

“Are you sure you're alright to drive?”

“I'm sick, not drunk.”

Michael's half-assed attempt at reassurance didn't settle Gavin's nerves. The first few minutes of their drive home was occasional silence, broken every few moments by Gavin's repetitive concern.

“Michael, are you woozy? Are you sure you're able to drive?”

“If I wasn't, I wouldn't be goddamn driving, Gavin.”

Another moment passed. Gavin rested his hand on Michael's shoulder and twisted in his seat to look at him directly.

“We can pull over somewhere and call a taxi.”

“Gav, seriously, stop. We'll be home soon. I'll be fine.”

Gavin pulled his hand back from Michael and sat back in his seat uncomfortably. He rested his hands in his lap, picking gently at the skin around his fingernails. The silence grew thick and deafening.

After a minute or two, guilt filled Michael worse than the nausea. He reached his right hand across the console and pulled on Gavin's left hand to intertwine it with his own.

“I'm sorry, I know you're only trying to help,” he apologized.

Gavin shook his head. “No, I'm the one who's sorry. You're sick because of me and my dumb, idiotic, stupid bet.”

Michael wasn't going to deny that claim. But he briefly tore his eyes from the road flashed Gavin a bright grin.

“Your dumb, idiotic, stupid bet has made me a hundred dollars richer. I can deal with the stomachache.”

They pulled into their usual parking spot at their apartment and got out. Michael took a deep breath of fresh air, hoping it would settle his urge to vomit. They walked together, slowly for Michael's sake, to their door and entered their apartment.

Gavin locked the door behind them and kicked off his shoes while Michael headed straight for the living room couch. He lay down gently and stared at the ceiling. He rolled his head back, watching as Gavin strolled past him.

“I'm gonna get you something to settle your stomach.”

Michael shut his eyes and nodded even though he knew his boyfriend couldn't see him. His head was starting to spin and he clutched his stomach with both hands.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, Gavin was standing above him, concern etched onto his face.

“Here, boi. Take this.”

Michael sat up slightly and took the pill Gavin had held in his hand. He chased it down with a sip of water from a glass Gavin offered to him.

He sighed and lay back down again, eyes closing. He heard Gavin shuffling around beside the couch, and then walking to the kitchen, and then back to the living room again. He felt Gavin gently lift up his feet and sit down at the end of the couch, resting Michael's feet in his lap.

Michael felt comfortable enough to doze off, the nausea subsiding enough to allow him to relax.

  
  


Less than half an hour later, Gavin was watching a random science show on the television when Michael sprang from the couch. Gavin jumped, watching in shock as Michael dashed to the bathroom.

He braced himself, and a moment later he heard the sounds of what he had been expecting. Michael was gagging and coughing in the bathroom, emptying his stomach contents into the toilet. Gavin gingerly approached the bathroom behind him.

As he predicted, Michael was kneeling in front of the toilet, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. His face was ghostly pale and his eyes were tearing up.

Gavin knelt down beside him and pressed down on the toilet handle, refusing to look into the toilet for the sake of his own stomach. They didn't need for both of them to be sick.

While the sound of the toilet flushing filled the room, Gavin scooped Michael into his arms and rested Michael's head against his chest. They remained there on the floor for a while. Gavin repetitively ran his fingers through Michael's curls, trying to soothe him as best as he could.

Finally, he broke the silence with another apology.

“Michael, I'm so sorry. This is my fault.”

Michael coughed once and shook his head. “No, it's not. I'm the one who drank the entire goddamn bottle.”

“But I was the one who came up with the idea, and now you're sick because of me,” Gavin whined.

“I'm fine. It will pass off and go away in a while. I'll be fine,” Michael reassured him.

“Do you feel any better after blowing some of it out?”

“A little bit, yeah. I probably won't throw up again.”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Michael's eyelids suddenly felt heavy. He nodded.

Gavin eased them both into a standing position, supporting Michael's weight in case the older boy felt weak or dizzy.

They progressed cautiously to the bedroom, only fumbling over their own feet once or twice. Gavin's knees hit Michael's side of the bed as he slowly lowered him down onto the unmade bed sheets. While Michael rested his head against the pillow and shifted to get comfortable, Gavin pulled the thick duvet over Michael's shoulders. He then walked around to his side of the bed and slipped under the covers. 

They moved closer together, cuddling in the middle of the bed. Michael entangled his legs with Gavin's and relaxed into the touch. 

Gavin rested their foreheads together. He still felt guilty, and if the situation was reversed and he was the one sick, he knew he would be mad. But Michael was too good to him, he realized. The boy wouldn't fight with him over the end result of a stupid bet, because he loved him too much for that.

Michael felt infinitely grateful for having Gavin by his side while he was sick. While it may be true that Gavin's “brilliant” idea earlier that day had caused him to be ill, Michael could never blame him for that. He knew from experience that Gavin liked placing bets and playing with money. He didn't usually mind those antics, even though Gavin's bets generally tended to be between the both of them more than anyone else. More importantly, Michael just appreciated having Gavin's assistance in the aftermath.

Both boys drifted off to sleep together, foreheads touching, limbs intertwined, and thinking about how much they appreciated each other.

Michael refused to eat barbecued food for three weeks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to stalk me on [tumblr!](http://jacktapillo.tumblr.com) chat with me about headcanons and stuff


End file.
